


Her Fight and Fury (is Fiery)

by baisley



Category: DreamWorks Dragons (Cartoon), How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Outlander Fusion, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, Female Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Modern Hiccup and Valka, No Beta, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Outlander AU, Slow Burn, Time Travel, Vikings, wibbly wobbly timey wimey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26728948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baisley/pseuds/baisley
Summary: Weeks from now, she would wonder what could have possibly possessed her to have run into the woods in her nightgown in the dead of night like some grieving prima donna in the third act of an opera.OrA young girl, with long-held dreams of flight and endless skies, is hurled back in time by forces unknown and finds herself in an ancient land of Vikings... andDragons.
Relationships: Dagur the Deranged/Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, Heather/Astrid Hofferson, Stoick the Vast/Valka
Comments: 9
Kudos: 27





	Her Fight and Fury (is Fiery)

**Author's Note:**

> I did it. Finally. Outlander au is here. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter One | Memoirs of Dreamer

For as long as Heika Haddock could remember, it had always just been her, her mother, and grandfather in the quaint cottage by the sea. It was all she ever knew, from the acres of land that surrounded her childhood home to the rocky shores and open ocean. Heika could walk the trails of the forest in her backyard blindfolded if her mother would let her, it was as easy as breathing. Happy memories seeped in every nook and cranny of the beloved home, cooking breakfast, playing with the toys her grandfather carved for her, making forts in the living room and play pretend.

One of her most treasured memories was that of when her mother had tucked her in at night and began their nightly rituals of bedtime stories.

“All comfy now, my wee bairn?” Her mother would always ask, smoothing the blankets as she sat beside her head.

“Yes, mummy.”

“What story does my little girl want tonight?” she would hum and begin combing her fingers through her hair.

And every night, she would smile in excitement at being given a choice, like clockwork she would ask of her mother, “Tell me about daddy, please. And the dragons!”

Her mother would smile and begin a new tale. She was like a container of infinite stories when it came to her father and the fantastic beasts that he lived with; no story was ever the same. She remembered wishing to never fall asleep if only to hear everything that came from her mother’s lips. Heika had wanted to hear about the mighty warrior that was her father, who braved seas and was chief among his people. Her mother would tell her stories of the brave and kind man that she had married (“Oh, my sweet girl, you’re so much like him. So strong, so kind.”). Oh, but she loved the stories about the dragons above all. Even if her mother brightened at her request for stories of her father, it was the _dragons_ that captured her imagination and filled her thoughts.

The sea dwellers- bigger than the whales! The fire breathers, hot enough to melt metal, the rock eaters with jaws stronger than a shark’s, and the little dragons that scuttled about and nested in every crevice. They all amazed her, and it was no exaggeration to say that she was quite literally obsessed with her mother’s tales. The walls of her childhood room were filled with drawings of dragons she had tried to draw in the likeness of her mother’s stories. Toys had lined her shelves and overflowed from her toy box. Her mother had no issue feeding her imagination.

But to Heika, it was more than that. When she fell asleep after every story, she dreamed of flying, like the dragons in her mother’s stories. High above the clouds with nothing but the endless sky as their roads and highways, Heika had never longed for anything more than to fly as free as dragons.

“I wanna fly like them, mummy! I wanna meet one!” She had exclaimed to her mother once, arms stretched like wings as she stared at the ceiling with starry eyes, as if she were staring at the sky beyond.

Her mother had chuckled fondly at her antics, but her eyes had been far away, and her voice seeped with a deep longing when she said, “Someday you will, my dear… Someday. I promise.”

“Really, mummy? When? Tomorrow?”

She had laughed and had tried to settle her down.

“Oh, I don’t know…”

“On my birthday! That’s in two weeks!”

She had pestered her mother and grandfather enough, nearly every day she hadn’t stopped talking about dragons and asking when she would fly with them. They had indulged and endured for a while until they couldn’t take it anymore. Her grandfather, Vidar, had told her one day, “Lassie, if yi’ll want tae fly so bad, then do something aboot it! Dinnae just hold yer horses for it tae happen.”

And so, she did just that.

Her grandfather always did have a way with words.

Her mind took her to the skies. Every waking moment she thought about the feel of the wind beneath leather wings, the weightlessness of being in the air. Heika decided to just stop dreaming and start _doing_ — just like her grandfather said.

She stopped asking for toys after that and instead asked for books about flying. Her mother gave her a book about birds. Heika devoured it, page after page.

She told her grandfather that she wanted to build wings to fly. He taught her how to make a paper plane. When she made her first paper plane (clumsily folded, too many creases, the wings were wonky), she threw it to the air and watched it land in the seawater.

She wanted more. She wanted better.

Her mother gave her a book about aeroplanes. She learned about engines, planes, spacecrafts, and she was a goner.

On her seventh birthday, her mother and grandfather gave her a kite. She flew it until the sunset, and she would have stayed past then if her mother hadn’t forced her back inside.

As she grew older, her dragons were replaced by planes engine diagrams, kites and plane figures. She told her mother she wanted to build—a more achievable dream instead of a long fantasy of growing wings and touching the clouds.

Her mother had touched her cheek and said, “Then go, Heika. Go build, be great.”

She didn’t need to be told twice.

Her grandfather’s forge behind the house suddenly became her second home. When she wasn’t being home-schooled by her mother, she was learning to smelt and pound metals with her grandfather. She was polishing wood and tinkering with gears.

She was ten when she showed her mother and grandfather the glider plane that she made. They were there to watch her deliver its maiden flight. When the strong winds took away her beloved glider, just like her paper plane, it took to the sea, but it didn’t fall, it kept on flying. Valka had hugged her and fussed, asking her if she was alright.

She had smiled, eyes on where her plane disappeared into the horizon, and said, “It’s still flying!”

Home-school suddenly wasn’t enough. The rolling fields and seashore view wasn’t enough. Heika felt horrible when she had plucked the courage to tell her mother that she wanted to go to school- to a real school! She wanted to learn how to make engines, she wanted to fly them.

She wanted more. She wanted better. She wanted to be great.

But that didn’t keep her guilt from eating her up when her mother smiled and told her, “Whatever will make you happy, my dear.”

Her grandfather hadn’t taken the news as well than her mother. He had huffed and puffed and complained… loudly.

“Ah dinnae ken how that’ll make any difference? Yer learning ‘here a’richt! And how come so far awa’?”

They were at his workshop and she was helping him repair and restore Mrs Findlay’s, their closest neighbour, glory box. Heika was twelve and next month she’ll leave home to go to a boarding school in Glasgow. She had managed to gain a place at a top-tier private all-girls school despite the late entry. She was determined to finish as early as she could and apply to Strathclyde. Her mother knew of her plans and had smiled and told her, “Then go and be great.”

“Pa, that’s where the school is, and it’s close to the university I want to go to when I finish high school,” she had explained.

“But Glasgow? Ah dinnae understand. Tis so far awa’ and there a’ schuil’s in ‘ere!” Her grandfather frowned, sanding the wood more harshly.

Heika sighed. “Please, don’t make this any maire difficult fur me.” Her Scottish brogue was harder to keep in check as her grandfather’s frustration brought her guilt. “It won’t be for forever…”

“Och, but tis guid as! Yer living thare. Boarding schuil… Pah! Whit bullshite.” Many people’s first impression of her grandfather was that he was a quiet and intimidating man, but once he got comfortable, he became loud and had plenty to say. His opinions couldn’t be held silent once you know him well enough. “Cannae ye just stay ‘ere? Ah kin be the one tae teach ye, ye wanted tae learn how tae build things, richt? Then build ‘here!”

“But Pa, ye cannae just-…” She took a breath. “You can’t just teach me, there are people who know what they’re doing and could teach me there. They know best.” 

“Ah kin make whit thay make!”

“Oh, Pa, you don’t even have a car, what do you know about making an engine? You’ve never even touched one!” She was exasperated now. Everything a household needed was just a handful of minutes’ walk away— the marketplace was ten minutes to the south, the bakery another ten in the south-west, and the small department store (a shoebox really, but you’d just about find whatever you need) a good eight minutes from the bakery. Her small, rural town had everything everyone needed.

But Heika found herself wanting more.

“Bah! Whit fur? Ave git th’ horses. Whit’s wrong wi’ Maria ‘n Nieve, eh?” At the names of the mares that her grandfather was so fond of, Hiccup sighed. She was weary of them ever since Maria, the pitch-black Clydsedale with a vain attitude, nearly kicked her head in when they were first introduced. They hated each other since.

“Nothing! Nothing’s wrong with them, Pa-… just. I really want to do this. I want to make you and mum proud.”

Her grandfather’s shoulders deflated. “We’re awready proud o’ye, dear. Ye dinnae need a fancy schuil fur that.”

She left the next month with her mother’s tearful goodbyes and her grandfather’s sad stare her last picture of home. Sometimes, Heika wished that she was seven again, wishing to grow wing and the closes she had to fly were paper planes. She missed when everything was easier, and when childhood innocence believed if she wished for something hard enough, it would come true.

When she used to believe that dragons were real.

Nobody had really broken the news to her, if anything, she was to blame. Too much curiosity led to crushing truths.

(Her mother had never really been fond of the dragon books that were sold in the bookstores. “They’re fakes”, her mother would huff, turning her nose at the book— _Eragon_ , it was called— that Heika had wanted to buy (she had been smitten by the dragon on the cover). “They can never compare to the real thing, Heika, they’re not worth reading.”

She had been excited and scared to commit her first act of rebellion— at the library of all places. Heika had been at the stage where ‘no’ became a challenge; The answer ‘no’ was answered with the thought of ‘how bad can it be?’ instead of obedience. She had asked the librarian for books about dragons, and she had been confused when she was led to the fiction section. Then, confusion became disbelief, then anger, and then a sad acceptance.

Her childhood shattered into little pieces in the corner of that tiny library with the worn copy of _Dragons: Explaining the Myth_ sitting on her lap. She never told her mother about it, but Heika never asked to hear her mother’s stories about dragons since then.)

School was difficult. No, that wasn’t accurate. Her courses were a breeze, they were informative if a bit dull.

It was the people… people were difficult.

On the first day, when her teacher had prompted her to introduce herself, she had been so full of nerves, she had gotten herself the hiccups and had introduced herself as “H-Hic- Heika! Haddock...” When she heard the quiet giggles and scoffs when she had sat back down, she was mortified. Her hiccups lasted the hour of her first class (the teacher thankfully ignored the occasional _hic_ that interrupted her, her classmates were less merciful), and her whole face was bright red from under her collar to the tips of her ears until lunch.

It hadn’t even been the third period, and it seemed like the whole school knew about her disastrous first impressions. The giggles and laughter were untamed in the halls, she heard the taunting “H-H-Hiccup H-Haddock” and wished the day would go quicker.

Her hope for friends had quickly gone down the drain. But she told herself to ‘toughen up, you aren’t here to make friends.’ So, she drowned herself in her studies, ignored the teasing notes and gossip. Heika revelled in every perfect grade and climbed the academic ladder higher and higher. Every jealous sneer and vicious bullies that hadn’t stopped calling her _Hiccup_ fuelled her to be better— to be greater.

Her teachers called her a prodigy. _Your mind’s too advanced for the work here_ , they had said. She had smiled politely, but inside, she was happy that they were taking notice. Finally. _Finally_.

When she was fourteen, they called her mother to discuss her education. Valka had driven from her country home to the city to have her teachers tell her that Heika was qualified to study for Highers and to get her university entrance qualifications a year early. _You have a very gifted daughter. She has so much potential,_ she heard them say.

Her mother had looked at her and asked if that was what she had wanted- if it would make her happy. Heika told her that it would, that it would make her great, just like she had told her to be.

Maybe if she hadn’t been too excited, too self-absorbed, she would have noticed how resigned her mother was when she gave her permission.

Heika completed her Highers at fifteen, her mother and grandfather were there to see her graduate. They told her how proud they were of when she stayed in her childhood home during break before the semester started. They baked her a cake and threw her a party. She basked in the feeling of home in that cottage house sitting at the Scottish countryside.

“Would dad have been proud of me?” she asked her mother one night when she sat on her bed like she used to do when she was young.

Her fears and insecurities plagued her, no matter how many times her mother and grandfather told her they were proud of her. Then her mind drifted to her father, the man of stories, who was brave and strong, whose name would bring a profound look of longing and sadness when she thought Heika wasn’t looking. Sometimes she wondered if he was all pretend (everyone but her grandfather and mother seemed to think so. Heika wasn't ignorant of the whispers and rumours from the townsfolk at home). If he had left her and her mother like the other girls at school had nastily told her. It didn’t help that her mother never told her what happened to him or where he’d gone. But then she would always light up whenever he was brought up in conversation, and she would think to herself, ‘how could he be all made up?’ Nobody could fake such love and adoration on her mother’s face at the mention of her husband.

“Och, mah sweet bairn. Without a doubt. If he wur ‘here he’d tell you how proud he is.” She ran her long fingers in her hair and looked at her softly.

Heika wondered if her worries would have died if she would have believed it if her father had been the one to tell her then.

She stepped into the entrance of Strathclyde University at sixteen. Her dreams and plans were coming true before her very eyes.

And, six months later, Heika is sitting alone, staring blankly as the city buildings shifted into rolling green hills outside her train window. Her belongings sit in a suitcase by her feet as she makes her way back home, her shoulders heavy with what seems like the weight of the world and looking like she wanted to do nothing more than to curl into a ball and cry. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please review! Let me know what you think. Reviews will fuel chapter updates.


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